


Of Red Capes and Wolves

by Mikkeneko



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, children in peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko
Summary: Before the Blight, Lothering was a peaceful little country town, a perfect place for an apostate to raise their daughter.But even peaceful woods have their own dangers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr pointed out that as the Hawkes lived in Lothering at the same time Morrigan was growing up in the Korcari Wilds -- and we know from Morrigan's dialogue that she would sometimes sneak into town to watch the humans -- it's not impossible that they could have met.
> 
> And that led to people calling for such a meeting, and that led to this.

Bethany skips along the riverbank, swishing the tails of her new cape behind her. It had been her name-day present, a bright red cape and hood, and she wore it with delight every day of the winter and cold, wet spring that followed. As much as she loves her family, Mother and Daddy and Garrett and sometimes maybe even Carver – when he’s not nailing her braid to the bed or putting snails in her shoes – it’s good to be out on her own, in the fresh air, for just a little while.

She wanders the paths between the trees, treading on the sodden remains of last year’s leaves, humming to herself under her breath. All at once there is a blur of motion to her right, and Bethany whirls around to see a dark horror of fur and fangs and blazing yellow eyes hurtling in her direction. She shrieks, and a burst of nothingness blasts out from her in every direction, blowing the rotting leaves off the paths and shaking the last leaves from the bare branches above.

The effort of the blast leaves her dizzy, the world blurred, and when she opens her eyes again she’s lying in the mut, wet twigs poking against her cheek and seeping into her dress. As she tries to push herself up, wiping the dirty leaves away, she hears a cold mocking laugh from above her.

In the tree from which the wolf came there’s a girl, a year or two older than herself, perched in the branches above Bethany’s head. She’s unbelievably dirty, her hair in a ragged knot behind her head and smudge of dark red mud under her eyes, and she’s – she’s wearing Bethany’s cape!

“Give that back!” Bethany yells, springing to her feet. “That’s mine! Give it back!”

The girl’s dirty nose scrunches up, and her lips lift from her teeth. “What does such a helpless little bird need with such bright plumage?” she sneers. “Such things attract wolves in the woods. I think ‘tis I that wear it better, don’t you? ”

“Oh – give it back!” Tears prickle in Bethany’s eyes; she hates it, how she cries when she’s mad. She jumps up and grabs the hem of the red cloak, trying in vain to yank the girl from her perch, but only a long panel of red tears off in her hand. “Mother gave that to me! I don’t want a dirty girl like you wearing it!”

The strange girl’s expression darkens. “A dirty girl, am I?” she said in a dangerous voice. She raises her hand and her eyes glow, and Bethany suddenly finds the world around her spinning as she crumples back into the drift of soggy leaves.

“There! She’s there!” another voice, unfamiliar, rings out from the riverbank along the wolves. Bethany just manages to lift her eyes enough to see who’s shouting, and the sight freezes her solid. A group of men in shining plate armor, heavy skirts embroidered with Chantry symbols. Templars!

“That’s the one the lads in the village told us about,” one Templar says to another, his voice ringing hollow behind his helmet. “A dark-haired girl in a red cape and hood. She’s the mage we’re looking for!”

Bethany lies quaking, still in the freezing mud, as the dark-haired girl wearing her cloak cackles madly above her. She raises her hands and darkness swirls around her, to the consternated shouts of the Templars. In a strange eye-twisting blur of green and dark, she’s no longer there; but her laughter reappears on the ground, further away between the trees.

“Oh, no! Templars are chasing me! Whatever shall I do?” the girl calls, although she doesn’t really sound very frightened at all. All the fright has gone into Bethany, freezing her cold and small and huddled among the trees, as The Templars, all shouts and clanging footsteps, pursue.

They don’t even turn to look at her.

When the sound of the chase and shouting has faded among the trees, Bethany gets up trembling from the mud. She still has a long scrap of red fabric, all that remains of her beautiful cape, and she wraps it around her shoulders and throat to try to warm up somehow. It doesn’t help, and she has to force her body to move, stumbling along the riverback towards home.

She keeps an eye out for the strange girl for years afterwards, but the stranger is never seen in Lothering again.

Neither are the Templars.

 

* * *

 

~end


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